


Ways to Say You Care

by relic_amaranth



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gifts, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert, Romance, Secret Admirer, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17640551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: Bucky’s been out of the dating game for a while, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his eye on someone. Courting is a bit different these days, but people still like ‘secret admirers’ right? He hopes you do.





	Ways to Say You Care

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea for a Valentine’s Day that actually split into two different fics. As a result, this is one of those things that turned out much different than I expected (for example, losing the explicit time setting of Valentine's Day and just being generally romantic) but I still like the end result, and I hope you can enjoy it too. Warning: pure fluff ahead <3

 

“Man, you have got this down to an art.”

“Shut up,” Bucky says and sips his drink. He flicks his eyes back down to the paper he’s pretending to read. “Are you staring? You better not be staring.”

“I’m not staring,” Sam chuckles. “You know, this whole thing would be creepy if they weren't checking you out almost as much.”

Bucky smiles into the newsprint. He glances up but you’re sitting on the other side of a wide path, focused on your book with little headphones in your ears. But then– you _do_ glance up, and as soon as you see Bucky looking you hide your face in the pages. He’s pretty sure he saw you smile, though.

“Seriously,” Sam says. “When are you going to say ‘hi’?”

“I’m working on it.” Bucky flips to the next section. “I’ve got to start facing rejection sometime.”

“There’s no reason to be negative like that.”

“They don’t know who I am.”

“Ease up on the angst there, Batman.” Sam rolls his eyes. “Besides, I’m pretty sure they do. There’s not exactly a surplus of people with metal arms. Not even in this city.”

Bucky frowns and checks his arm– long sleeves, gloves, and a jacket usually cover him well enough. “Where’s it showing?”

“It isn’t now, but it did.” Sam’s grin is a bright warning sign. “Remember? That day I knocked you on your ass?”

Bucky scoffs and shoots him a glare. “More like when you knocked me on my _face_.”

“Well it’s hard to tell the difference sometimes.”

“Har fucking har.” But Bucky smirks. “I do remember that, actually. ‘Cause I remember after you knocked me down and they came over and tore you a new one. You remember that?”

Sam snorts. “I remember it took you way too long to tell them I was your friend.”

“I had to decide if you still were.”

“Fuck you, Barnes.”

“No thanks Wilson; I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

Sam laughs and Bucky smiles. He watches you though, as you place your bookmark, pack up, and slowly walk away to the main path where runners, cyclists, and the rest of the riffraff eventually swallow you up.

“Seriously,” Sam says. “I’m not Steve and I’m not your therapist; I’m not going to push you. But I _am_ your friend. Please tell me you’re going to do something about this.”

Bucky folds his paper neatly. “Don’t worry– I have a plan.”

 

**Gift One**

Bucky is practically fidgeting, he’s so nervous. He’s trying to call on the Winter Soldier side of himself but it isn’t working. On one hand, it’s comforting that it doesn’t come so easy anymore. On the other hand, he could _really_ use it right now.

Though from a completely different hand, it’s possible that even the Soldier is terrified by this.

Someone is coming down the path and Bucky’s eyes dart from side to side until he sees you and forces his vision back to his paper. He should be relaxing, now that he doesn’t have to keep such a sharp eye out for interlopers, but he feels like a crushed-up ball of nerves.

You slow when you notice the card propped on your usual bench, innocent red envelope addressed on the basis of your favorite jacket and your taste in books. Bucky is very careful not to be seen looking, but he watches your every move. You pick up the envelope and keep your eyes on it as you sit, and you barely set your things to the side before you start (gently) prying open the flap.

Bucky watches as you read the card. It was the least cheesy one he could find at the store and the message he wrote was very simple, but your smile lights up your whole face and you let your eyes dart over it again and again and Bucky has to shove his paper up over his face and breathe deep in effort not to rip it because _he_ did _that_? He had thought you’d be pleased but he never thought he could make anyone smile like that.

He forces himself to calm down. Even though you spend your morning intermittently picking up the card, Bucky doesn’t break rank. He has a plan and he is going to see it through.

After you pack up and leave, smile still on your face, Bucky does allow himself to drop the paper to his lap and sigh.

At least he’s off to a good start.

 

**Gift Two**

There’s a small box on your bench.

At first, Bucky was going to put another envelope there but it didn’t sit right with him to do the same thing twice. Even though this is _technically_ different.

The original plan was one gift card. A simple gift that could be personalized to a moderate extent. Then he got stuck between two perfectly good options– he’s seen you with Starbucks, and he’s seen you with books. Both, all the time. Which one do you love more? Warm drinks are good for this chilly weather, but books are also comforting.

In the end he mostly stuck with the plan and got a Starbucks gift card. And then he realized that he’d be setting out another envelope, so he then got you a pair of earbuds, and put both gifts in a small box.

So the plan is already off the rails and he doesn’t like it one bit. Then, as you approach the bench and see the small present, your eyes light up, and it’s when you start to open it that Bucky sees _another_ problem with this plan.

Neither of his gifts have been signed. Sure, it’s reasonable for you to _assume_ that it’s him leaving them– he’s always present and Sam is right, you both have been trading glances for a while– but the fact is that you don’t _know_ who that box is from and you’re not being cautious at _all_ ; you just _open_ it and–

Your smile makes Bucky relax. This will be a problem later, but for now he just enjoys watching you appreciate your gifts. “This is so nice,” you murmur to yourself. Not _too_ nice, Bucky notes with relief. Maybe being a little bold isn’t so bad after all.

His phone buzzes and Bucky curses as he pulls it out. Naturally it’s Steve with a “situation” and command to get to the tower ASAP. Bucky confirms, but practically breaks the phone when he ends the call. He takes one last look at your blissful expression before he runs off.

 

**Gift Three**

Bucky is exhausted.

He just got back last night and spent too much time tracking down a flower store that was still open. The rest of the team is going to be sleeping for the next few days– even Steve had looked at him funny when he was leaving the house.

 

_“ **You're** up,” Bucky pointed out._

_“Do I look like I’m going anywhere?” Steve asked and gestured at his pajama pants and t-shirt. “Is everything okay Buck?”_

_Bucky hesitated. “It’s…good. It’s going really good. I’ll tell you about it later.”_

_Steve’s smile was so big Bucky could already feel the boa constrictor hug incoming, and if Steve squashed the flowers in Bucky’s coat, Bucky really would murder him this time. “Now eat your Wheaties and go nap in front of the TV, old man,” Bucky said and swung the door open._

_“Have fun feeding your birds,” Steve said. Bucky flipped him off and slammed the door shut._

 

It’s not a bouquet, just two flowers tied together with ribbon and positioned carefully, but as simple as it is, Bucky likes it and hopes that you do too. He can barely pretend to read, his eyes are so heavy, but his stubborn persistence is rewarded.

If you’ve ever had doubts about where the gifts have been coming from, they’re probably well abolished after several days with no gift and then only getting one on Bucky’s return. However you still humor him, regarding the flowers without looking at him, and quietly thanking your “secret admirer,” your smile widening greatly on those two words.

Bucky feels at peace as he sits with his book and you sit with yours, until you have to go. Reluctantly, Bucky stands and stretches. Maybe he’ll have a nap. A short one. This next present is going to be the penultimate and it needs to be _perfect_.

 

**Gift Four**

He finished it.

It’s sitting on the bench, folded carefully and looking as good as it can. Bucky fidgets– mostly to keep himself awake. Steve had barged in at two a.m. and threatened to tranq him. Bucky had responded by throwing a spare needle into the wall next to his head. Bucky’s going to have to apologize later, and fix the wall, but it was all worth it– the scarf turned out _amazing_ , if he does say so himself. And he does. Say so. Or think so. Christ, he’s tired.

As soon as you catch sight of it you gasp and rush over. It’s all even more worth it as Bucky watches you unravel the scarf and feel it over. He knew it would be worth it, but it’s one thing to ‘know’ and it’s something else to see you running your hands over every purl before you throw the whole thing around your neck and _nuzzle_ it with your cheek.

So worth it.

Bucky’s phone rings and he’s content when he answers. “Barnes.”

“Bucky,” Steve says. “Please. You have _got_ to get some sleep.”

Bucky watches you for a moment while he takes stock of his body. “Okay.”

“You– wait,” Steve says. “Okay?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bucky says and stands. “You want me to pick up breakfast on the way?”

“Uh…sure. Bagels. And coffee– but none for you,” Steve says sternly. “And yes, I forgive you for trying to spear me with a knitting needle.”

Bucky snorts. “If I had really wanted to, I would have.”

“Mm hm,” Steve says. “So? How’d it go?”

Bucky considers it. “Good,” he decides.

“Good?” Steve repeats, sounding disappointed.

“I’m not done yet,” Bucky says, giving a courtesy glance before crossing. “Tomorrow.”

“Ah,” Steve says. “You better come home and get some sleep then.”

“That’s the idea,” Bucky says and hangs up. He’ll catch crap for it when he gets home, but that’s okay. Steve’s right– Bucky has to rest before tomorrow.

 

**Gift Five**

The bench is empty.

Bucky sits, second-guessing himself and glaring at the sky. It downpoured overnight and has already rained again once on his way over. Lightly, but still. He’s not sure if you’ll even come, but he hopes, and his sleeves are wet from wiping the benches dry.

Thankfully, you arrive. Wearing the scarf. He’s too slow to look away and so there’s a moment of brief eye contact. You smile at him, and what’s more– you hesitate. Bucky feels his heart speed up. Is this it? It’s too soon, he’s not ready; he hasn’t prepared enough for– but you take your seat, and Bucky is left with retreating adrenaline and echoes of a racing heartbeat.

You take out your book and he focuses on his, for something grounding. He’s too nervous right now; he just needs a little time to calm down. Natasha has said he gets ‘loom-y’ when he’s nervous and as out of practice as he is, he knows that’s not how you want to ask someone on a date. So he’s just going to take a moment.

The weather has a problem with this plan.

When Bucky sees the first droplet land on the page, he curses. He shuts the book fast but not before more rain wets the page and he hurries to pop open his umbrella just before the cloudburst truly starts.

When he sees you, though, you’re still struggling with your umbrella and getting soaked in the meantime. He leaps up and rushes over, and only realizes what he’s done when you look up at him with a grateful smile. He freezes.

“Thank you,” you say.

He’s still frozen. You go back to fighting with your umbrella and after an eternity he manages to mumble, “You're welcome.”

“What?” you ask and squint up at him through the water still running down your face. He shakes his head and gestures for your umbrella while holding his to you. He crouches down so he can (mostly) stay under the cover while he tries to fix the problem. You scoot in and when he glances to the side he’s practically nose-to-spine with the book in your lap, and only centimeters away from your fingers, which are curled lightly around the waterlogged binding.

The fact that you’re hovering over him spurs him into working faster, but two of the wires are completely busted and no amount of coaxing is going to make it fan right. He looks up to give you the bad news but his face must say it all. You sigh. “I thought so,” you say sadly and glance at your book similarly. “Thank you anyway.”

You hand him back his umbrella and he stands and waits for you to do the same. You look at him curiously. “I’ll walk you to the street,” he says, thanking any deity who’s listening for his suddenly functioning vocal cords. “Until you get a cab.”

“Oh, I don’t want to put you out.”

“I insist.” The words surprise him as much as they surprise you, but you smile. Boldness rewarded, he bends his free arm out in offering.

“I’m soaked,” you say apologetically.

“So am I,” he says, even though he’s damp and you look like you’ve jumped in a lake.

You take his arm and, wet or not, he could stand here all day. Except you shiver and he knows now is _not_ the moment he needs. He waves down a cab in record time. While holding the umbrella at the back door for you, he raps sharply on the passenger window. As you’re still maneuvering into the car Bucky leans in and hands the driver practically enough cash to get you to Canada. “Wherever they want to go; keep the change.”

The man’s eyes go wide and he nods rapidly. Bucky moves back to you just as you settle in.

“Thank you,” you say. You smile nervously. “I’ll…see you when the weather gets better?”

He nods. “Go warm up; don’t want you to catch a cold,” he says. You nod and he stands there awkwardly for a moment before he reluctantly steps back and shuts the door, letting the car speed off. It didn’t go as planned, but that’s all right. He’s going to make this work.

 

**Gift…One**

There’s something on his bench.

And there’s someone watching him.

The something is a messily wrapped present that sort of resembles a circle. Vaguely. The someone watching is…you. Hiding behind a tree up the path.

Bucky laughs quietly to himself and goes to take his seat. He picks up the gift and finds a small card underneath. ‘ _For your running shoes_ ,’ it reads and is signed by ‘ _your (mutual) secret admirer_.’

Bucky can’t stop smiling, and he barely resists the urge to look up at you. Instead he opens his present. Shoelaces. Three bundles, each pair with unique patterns and vibrant colors. Well, Sam always says he wears too much black. Wait’ll he sees _these_.

Bucky hears you dart off and he watches you speed-walk away. After you almost collide with someone when you try to glance back, you keep your head forward and make your escape. Apparently his plan is officially on hold. That’s all right– Bucky is learning how to roll with the punches on this particular mission. He pockets the gift and card. He’s gotta go lace up his shoes.

 

**Gift Two**

The next day he finds a gift card for The Strand. He watches you go again, and when you glance back and notice he’s watching you, you trip over your feet and barely catch yourself from falling.

It figures. Bucky has always loved disasters. He wouldn’t live with one if he didn’t.

 

**Gift Three**

A warm beanie. Hand-bought if not hand-made, but Bucky loves it just as much. It’s cool blue and grey, and he puts it on immediately.

He hears a soft, “ _yes_!” just before you run away.

 

**Gift Four**

This gift seems more traditional and Bucky unwraps it carefully. It’s a small photo frame, and inside is a candid shot of Steve and Sam wrestling after, Bucky assumes, the two of them tripped each other up.

When he gets home he makes room for it right in the center of the mantle. Steve mutters about how the two of you at least have creepy stalking in common. Bucky socks him in the arm so hard that Steve glares at him off and on for the rest of the day.

 

When Bucky arrives the next day, there’s no gift, and you’re reading in your usual spot.

He walks right over and asks, “Can I sit here?”

You shut your book too fast to save your spot but you nod, and Bucky takes his seat while you struggle to find the right page again. Once you do, and mark it, he clears his throat. “I’m…James. Barnes. But I go by Bucky.”

That could have gone better, but you don’t seem to notice as you introduce yourself. Bucky hesitates for just a moment before he plows forward. “This might sound out of the blue but I was wondering…if you’d like to go to dinner with me tonight?”

You grin and your body slouches in unmistakable relief. “That is pretty quick,” you say. “You only just learned my name.”

“It’s a really great name,” Bucky says and you laugh. You _laugh_. Because of _him_.

“How can I resist a compliment like that?” you say. “I’d love to.”

This is the best day of Bucky’s _life_.

“But…”

He stops mentally patting himself on the back, but you’re still smiling. “Dinner’s a long time away,” you say. “Maybe you’d like to come to breakfast with me?”

Bucky falls back to a familiar smile. “I’d love to.”

You get up and extend your right hand straight out for his left. Bucky goes to grab it, unthinking, until he notices which hand and– he freezes.

“Bucky.”

He looks at you. You look so patient. So gentle. “If it makes you uncomfortable then that’s one thing,” you say. “But I know. And you don’t have to worry on my account.”

He pauses, but slips his hand into yours, and he doesn’t let go for a very long time.


End file.
